Are We There Yet?
by Renchikara
Summary: Six hours. Three hundred and sixty minutes, stuck in a train carriage with America. England decides to engage his mind by contemplating any everyday situation for a country that could possibly be worse than this. None come to mind. USUK. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello and welcome to yet another story. What is this, my twentieth? Twenty-first? And my second _Hetalia_ one! ^^**

**This is already written out and completed, so I can say now that it will be a two-shot.**

**This story was written a few months ago before the final decision regarding the Scottish Referendum, so this is set back then before the outcome became known.**

**The USUK isn't anything explicit, just various pokes at their relationship and LOADS of hinting. Bits of fluff, bits of humour, and the angst is not welcome here. I said in my other USUK FanFic that I am not in the mood for angst right now. I just want this to be light-hearted and fun! It's basically just got this rating like why so many other _Hetalia_ FanFictions do: England's mouth, plus the fact that France is in it. XD**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>One<strong>

He should be proud whenever he hosts a world meeting in his own country, but to be honest... it's a bit of a hassle. For one thing, it's always raining whenever the meetings are held here. The other nations will take one look at the sky and be like, 'Ha. Typical British weather.'

And then England will try and convince them that it is _not _always raining (not _all _the time, anyway), and that there are sunny days here too. Everyone will laugh and give him condescending looks after that.

_Well, what do they expect? It's always raining in Britain because of the jet stream. Bloody idiots._

Of course, Frog-Face has his own theory on why it rains so much in Britain. He'll call England something in French that the other blonde will roughly translate as 'miserable sod', which will then cause England to reply with a scathing retort.

_Bloody wino. Stupid wanker. Idiotic git. _The insults are endless.

_'Ah, but you won't be depressed today, non?' _Frog-Face says on the other end of the phone line, and England can practically see France smirking.

'What are you talking about now?' England snaps, absent-mindedly glaring over the platform to fix his eyes as far as he can down the track, trying to catch a glimpse of a train that is already five minutes late.

_'Well, you won't be alone for the train ride, will you, mon ami?'_

'If the train ever actually shows up,' England mutters. 'Bloody hell... wait, what do you mean I won't be alone?'

France gives a fake gasp. _'Ah! I should not have ruined the surprise!'_

England freezes, then very slowly says, 'I swear to God, if those doors open and you're in the carriage then I will kill-'

_'Ohonhonhonhonhon! Not me, my dear Angleterre.'_

'Who is it, then?'

France laughs again. _'You'll see.'_

England breathes a sigh of relief, glad that he's not going to be faced with the bloody wino when he gets back on the train. 'I forgot, your plane hasn't even taken off yet. I don't have to worry about you annoying me just yet.'

_'Wrong there, little _tsundere_.'_

'Why the bloody hell does everyone keep calling me that?' England exclaims, receiving some weird looks from some other people standing on the platform. He lowers his voice slightly. 'What do you mean I'm wrong?'

_'I took a ferry instead, the day before yesterday.'_

'Wha-? Th-then, where are you now?'

_'Birmingham,' _France says simply.

'Why the bloody hell are you there? The meeting is in London!'

_'Prussia dared me to pick up chicks in the city centre!' _France says happily.

'Unbelievable,' England mutters, face-palming. 'Hang on... I'm catching another train at Birmingham International-'

_'See you in a few hours!' _France yells joyfully, quickly hanging up.

'Bloody wanker!' England screams at the phone as the line goes dead. A few feet away, a mother quickly covers her son's ears, glaring at the blonde.

_But he never told me who will be on the train with me. Who would possibly want to catch a train all the way over here in Glasgow when they could have just arrived in Britain at Heathrow Airport?_

_ Please don't let it be Scotland, _England quickly thinks, horrified at the thought of spending such a long time in a confined space with his mean older brother. _Please, please don't let it be Scotland. _After all, it would make sense. England has been spending the last few days in Glasgow, having been begged by his boss to come up here and express how sad (not really) he'd be if Scotland became independent.

_No love loss there, _England thinks bitterly, wishing he could have just stayed in London over the last few days.

Finally, England makes out a grey shape in the distance. 'Well, it's about time,' he says under his breath, beginning to feel nervous at the thought of who the mystery person on the train might be. He picks up the suitcase he brought to Glasgow, preparing to board the train as it pulls to a stop in front of him.

The automatic doors slide open and England stares in horror (definitely horror. This is in no way a pleasant surprise) at a tall, familiar blonde man with rectangular glasses (dubbed Texas) and a cow-lick (known as Nantucket) that will not stay down no matter how hard England has forced it to in the past.

'Hey, Iggy!' America grins. 'Surprise!'

* * *

><p>'What the bloody hell are you doing here?!' England hisses, his stomach doing somersaults (from the shock. Not for any other reason).<p>

America pouts. 'The World Meeting. Duh.'

'That's in London, idiot! What are you doing here in Glasgow?'

'Riding a train that will take me to London,' comes the simple reply.

If looks could kill, America would disintegrate into a smouldering pile of ash. He shivers a little at England's expression and decides to give a proper answer.

'Well, my plane landed here-'

'Why didn't you take a plane to Heathrow?'

'I was gonna do that, but-'

''Going to',' England corrects him.

'- but France told me you were in Scotland and you'd be taking a train all the way to London-'

'I'm boarding a new one at Birmingham International,' England mutters.

'- and so I thought that six hours by yourself would be totally unbearable-'

'You thought wrong.'

'- and I decided to be the hero and rescue from your boredom!' America finishes, smiling proudly.

'It's a waste of money,' England scolds him.

'What?' America asks innocently, waving his arms. 'I'm not broke or anything.'

'Tell that to your economy.'

'My economy's fine!' America exclaims.

'Yes, your country's the best,' England says sarcastically. 'Number one for crime rate, rape, teen pregnancies, obesity-'

'That's right, world, we're number one!' America yells triumphantly, sticking out his chest.

For the second time today, England face-palms. 'You're an idiot.'

'Ha ha ha ha ha! You like me really!'

_I suppose I do, although I have no idea why, _England thinks with a sigh.

America takes England's silence to mean yes. He pulls England into a bone-crushing hug, ignoring the smaller country's cries of complaint.

'C'mon, I'm sicking over here, Iggy!' he says, pulling England over to the seats at the other end of the carriage, surrounded by three suitcases.

'How much stuff do you need?' England demands, rolling his eyes at the younger country. 'And don't call me 'Iggy'!' he adds hastily, praying that America won't think he can get away with it.

'I've brought loads of video games to amuse me, and Japan promised to bring me all the new ones his country have developed, so I should have even more after we've seen him at the meeting.'

'Great,' England mutters, taking a seat beside the window. The sooner he's out of Scotland, the better; it's not exactly like his older brother made him feel welcomed.

His mind wonders to the surprise he felt when the doors to the carriage opened and America was standing there, wearing his favourite jacket and a huge smile. Acting as if he was actually pleased to see England. Once again, England's stomach feels like it's jumping and there's a weird fluttering in his chest. Perhaps the food he had for breakfast was off? But the milk didn't taste funny...

'Dude, you're totally spacing out,' America announces. 'You feeling okay?'

_No, I actually feel a bit odd, as it happens. _'I'm fine,' England dismisses, watching as the platform begins to slide by as the train starts moving again.

* * *

><p>'Are we there yet?'<p>

England sighs, knowing that this is only the beginning of a series of repetitive questions. 'No, git. We're only half-an-hour in.'

America whines. 'How long is this going to take?'

'You already know the journey will take six hours. You should have just taken the flight to Heathrow. Or, if you really were desperate to be on this train, you could have landed at Birmingham International and taken the train from there-'

America scrunches up his face in concentration, then gives his usual smile. 'You know what would be cool? If the train had, like, a huge jet pack and then it could zoom all the way to London faster than the speed of light-'

'Nothing can go faster than the speed of light,' England mutters.

'- and then we wouldn't have to get super bored for six hours.'

'_You _didn't have to,' England snaps. 'I keep telling you, if you had just caught a different plane-'

'Why were you in Scotland, anyway?' America asks, rummaging around in his rucksack for his lunch.

'Honestly, you have no idea what's going on right now, do you?' England says exasperatedly. 'The Scottish Referendum? They want to become independent...? Any of this ringing a bell...?'

'… Durgh, ahrghm surrugh,' America says, his mouth full of cheese burger.

'Excuse me?' England says, watching America disdainfully.

America takes a big swallow, actually looking a little serious. 'Dude, I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. I really couldn't care less, but my boss insisted that I should come and try and express how we- as in my boss, not me- will be sorry to see them go if they do get their way.'

'That's cold, man. Scotland's your brother.'

'I stand by what I say.'

There's a bit of an uncomfortable silence after that. America wonders whether England's thinking about July the fourth and whether he considers that an entirely different situation. America is aware of England's dislike for Scotland.

* * *

><p>'I spy with my little eye... something beginning with... ooh, M and D!'<p>

Only one thing would get that reaction out of America. 'McDonald's,' England says without looking up from his book.

America leans back against his seat, looking a bit dejected. 'Dude, you didn't even look out of the window.'

'I didn't have to,' England says shortly, his eyes still scanning the words on the page.

America lifts the cover of the book off the table so he can see what it's called. To his surprise, half of what it says in the blurb sounds so unbelievably boring that America finds his eyelids drooping just by looking at it.

'How do you read that?' he asks.

'From left to right. If you've been taught how to read, the words should make sense inside your head.'

America scowls. 'I know how to read, England. I read the _Harry Potter_ books.'

'Only after you watched the first three films and realised how genius they were.'

'Which one's your favourite?' America asks excitedly. 'I've got to go with _The Sorcerer's Stone _'cause it's the very first one and and they're so small-'

'The _what s_tone?' England hisses, believing he misheard the bigger nation.

America blinks. '_Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone_.'

England stares at him. 'It's _The_ _Philosopher's Stone, _idiot.'

The younger country grins. 'Not in America.'

It's called '_The Philosopher's Stone_'! Why on _earth _would you rename it?'

'It's easier to say.'

'How is 'Philosopher' hard to say? Phil- o- so- pher!'

'Come on, dude, it's not that big of a deal!'

England is fuming. 'Bloody hell...'

'Said Ron,' America finishes, earning a scathing look from his companion. He laughs, finding England's temper to be amusing.

'You didn't rename any of the others, did you? Did you have trouble with the word 'Azkaban'?' England asks with a touch of condescension.

'It sounds like 'kebabs'!' America says with a giggle.

England groans and presses his forehead up against the window, watching the scenery fly by.

Six hours. Three hundred and sixty minutes, stuck in a train carriage with America. England decides to engage his mind by contemplating any everyday situation for a country that could possibly be worse than this.

None come to mind.

_Well, there's always going to be the part of the journey where we arrive in Birmingham International and France joins us... Still, I'll have probably jumped out of the train by that point._

* * *

><p><em>'… Iggy...'<em>

England freezes, immediately spinning around on the spot, staring at his crew on the deck, but they're all hard at work, most of them scrubbing the deck of the ship.

_'… Iggy.'_

England's fingers tighten around the wheel. The sound is neither coming from the fairly calm sea or anywhere on the ship. England glances up at the sails, blowing in the breeze. Apart from the lookout, there's no one up there.

_'Iggy.'_

Why the bloody hell does that name sound all too familiar? England is about to call out an order to his crew when another _'Iggy!'_ is yelled out, followed by a sharp prodding to his side.

'Bloody what?!' England snaps at America as his emerald eyes fly open.

'I'm bored,' America says simply.

'Let me get this straight,' England says, leaning forwards to place his elbows on the table in front of him, burying his head in his hands. 'You woke me up from a perfectly enjoyable dream to tell me that you're bored, when you could have found something to amuse yourself with and left me sleeping.'

'Well, I know old people need to take lots of naps-'

The smaller country punches America in the arm, earning a yelp from the other blonde. This particular remark has annoyed England because of how youthful he felt in his dream about his pirate days. And hell, there are a number of countries who are older than England. Frog-Face, for one. And look at China!

Fuming, England decides to take a break. 'I'm going to the loo,' he announces stiffly, getting up and squeezing past the bigger nation.

'Don't old people have to do that a lot, too?' America asks innocently, grinning from ear to ear.

'Bloody git,' England mutters as he walks further down the carriage, heading for the toilets.

Apart from the bags under his eyes, England thinks he looks absolutely fine as he observes his reflection in the mirror. _And I only look a bit stressed because of all the preparation for the World Meeting, as well as that bloody Referendum. Plus, I'm stuck with America for the next few hours. Great. Just great._

Nevertheless, his emerald eyes are shining. Despite looking exhausted, England appears happy. He realises that he is, in fact, secretly glad that he's not alone on this train journey. Even if America manages to piss him off to the point in which he will seriously consider jumping off the train, it is nice to have the company.

'But there's no way in hell I'm going to let him know that,' England mutters with a smirk, missing a sparkle of light blue in the mirror, the eyes clearly belonging to someone standing behind him. 'It's not like I can let that ego of his get any bigger-'

'Let me know what?'

England jumps violently and spins around. 'Bloody hell! Don't sneak up on people like that!'

America stands in the open doorway, still smiling that infuriating smile. 'Dude, you didn't even lock the door. I thought you needed to go.'

_Idiot... _England thinks, rolling his green eyes. 'I just needed a break. It's pretty frustrating being stuck in a carriage with a complete moron.'

America doesn't even bother to acknowledge the insult but just laughs it away like he always does. 'It's not just me and you on the carriage! There are the humans and...' His expression transforms into something rather thoughtful and slightly confused. 'I... I think I came into Britain with another nation... I swear I was sitting next to another country on the plane, and I got off the train with someone... I think...'

England sighs. 'Honestly, you either travelled here with someone else or you didn't. As far as I am aware, you and I are the only nations on this train, let alone the carriage.'

'… Yeah,' America says, nodding. 'I guess you're right.' His smile reappears. The two countries step away from the bathroom and head back towards their carriage, neither of them spotting a ghost-like country who looks suspiciously like America, standing next to the toilet door, holding onto a small polar bear cub in his arms.

'Well, at least America kind of remembered me,' Canada says softly with a painfully optimistic smile. 'That's a good thing, right, Kumako?'

The polar bear cub (whose real name is Kumajiro, thank you very much) squeaks, 'Who are you?'

'I'm Canada.'

* * *

><p>'Your turn!' America says gleefully, prodding England repeatedly to distract him from the book he is desperately trying to read.<p>

'Fine!' England yells, slamming the book down on the table. 'I spy with my little eye, something beginning with I and B!'

'No fair,' America says with a pout. 'Two letters are too hard!'

'You gave me M and D earlier, idiot!'

'Yeah, but McDonald's is _one _word... Okay...' America's blue eyes scan the compartment, looking for anything that might give him a hint. At one point he thinks he sees someone who looks vaguely familiar sitting a few seats away with what looks like a polar bear cub, but he dismisses this, believing it to be just his imagination.

'Uh... irresistible bacon?' America wildly guesses, suggesting this because his stomach is starting to rumble.

'What?!'

'Well, bacon is pretty irresistible!'

England groans for what feels like the millionth time. 'There's no bloody bacon on this train.'

'Irresistible burgers?' America asks hopefully. England begins banging his head gently against the table. 'Gimme a clue!'

'It's right next to me,' England says, his voice now muffled because his face is buried in his folded arms.

'Dude, _window _begins with a W. One word.'

'Not the window, git!'

'Oh! Me!' America exclaims. 'But my name's America... and my human name is Alfred F Jones...'

England smirks into the fabric of his sleeve, aware that America won't get this one. The fool won't even be able to see him smiling.

'Okay, I give up!' America says drastically. 'Come on then- what is it?'

'Insufferable bastard.'

'Not cool, dude!' America says.

England lifts his head up so America can see his cunning little smile. 'But it's very true.'

America pouts again, crossing his arms and glancing the other way. England is reminded of America as a child when he was on the verge of a tantrum. Some things never change.

After a few seconds of silence, America asks, 'Are we there yet?'

England's head slams down on the table again.

* * *

><p>'Dude, did you see that t-rex? Oh, and that creepy bit in the café where the people were all clockwork and stuff.'<p>

Unfortunately, England tunes in a little too late to understand what America is talking about. 'Hmm?'

'_Doctor Who_!' America says excitedly.

Smirking again, England is glad that America has some respect for great British drama. A love for TV shows like _Doctor Who _and _Sherlock_ are one of the few things the two nations have in common.

While America continues to go on about the part where the t-rex catches fire, England checks the time on his watch. It's still a while before the dreaded French nation will meet them at the station at Birmingham International.

(Picking up chicks? France is there because Prussia dared him to _pick up chicks?!_ As much as England can actually find that believable (because come on- this _is_ France), he knows that France is also probably using that as an excuse. Frog-Face is no doubt there to piss England off. That just about sums it up, really. He'll probably try and molest England as soon as he gets off this train.)

'Hey, Iggy? … I feel like something's watching us…'

'Don't be ridiculous.' Perhaps America has been watching a little _too _much _Doctor Who_.

'No, seriously! I think there's something in the carriage with us!'

When England actually bothers to glance up at America's face, he can see that the younger nation's expression is full of fear.

England rolls his eyes. 'You know, America… you're right. We're not alone. There are others in this carriage besides us. They're called _humans_.' He gestures vaguely at the human family at the other end of the carriage, all happily chatting away with each other.

America whimpers. 'N-not them! Something e-e-else!'

From a few seats away, Canada says weakly, 'It's okay, America. I think it's just me you can sense…' He trails off when he realises no one can actually hear him- not even Kumajiro, who is gazing blearily at a fly on the window.

America clutches onto England's arm, pressing his head against the older country's shoulder. 'I sp-p-py with m-my l-l-little eye, s-something b-b-b-beginning with G!'

'There are no ghosts on this train, America,' England says in a bored voice, going a little red at the close contact. 'And aren't you supposed to be a hero?'

'I… I _am_ a hero!'

'I'm pretty sure heroes don't hide from ghosts,' England points out.

'They don't!' the bigger nation agrees.

'And they keep people away from harm by protecting them,' England continues, sighing in exasperation. Honestly, America can be such a child; it's ridiculous (even if England doesn't mind it as much as he lets on).

'Oh… I get it,' America says in an unusually quiet voice, his trademark grin returns. 'You want _me_ to protect _you_ from the ghost because you're scared!'

England chokes, quickly turning it into a cough. '… What?'

America wraps one of his arms around England's shoulders, pulling him in close. 'Don't worry, Iggy! The hero will protect you!'

England lets out a string of swear words, struggling to get free. 'Stupid- bloody- wanker- I was just trying- to get you- to- shut- up- you- git!' Across the carriage, the parents of the family glare at the nations, the kids watching with excited grins on their faces.

'Dude, you gotta stop swearing-'

'Unhand me, fool! And it's 'you've got to', not 'you gotta'!'

America finally catches sight of England's extremely flushed face, taking note of those huge eyebrows which are knitted together in frustration. Geez, Iggy must be really mad!

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><p><strong>The second chapter should be up soon, once I've typed it up. I've got it all written down in a notebook, so it shouldn't take too long! ^_~<strong>

**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who followed/favourited/reviewed! I'm so grateful (as authors generally are)!**

**This was only meant to be a two-shot so I'm wrapping it up here! As I said, it's very suggestive USUK (_loads _of hinting and teasing) and their relationship could easily go somewhere we want by the end of this story, but I didn't feel like writing any actual kissing scenes or stuff like that.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Two<strong>

Tea? Sadly, no.

Coffee? Out of the question.

Alcohol? Yes, alcohol. That's what England needs right now.

'Do they have any alcohol on this train?' he asks America.

'Uh, maybe. I dunno.'

England doesn't even bother to correct the younger nation. Instead, he leaves his seat again and wonders up the carriage, feeling sick at the thought that they'll be getting off at the next stop. Birmingham International. Where France will be waiting for them.

'I really need a drink,' England croaks to himself.

Meanwhile, America is busy not trying to smash his phone as a result of him failing miserably by gaining a grand high score of only three on Flappy Bird, when he receives a text from Japan.

_**Hello, America-san. Are you having a pleasant journey?**_

_** Well, it's boring. But winding up Iggy is fun, so I can't complain.**_

_** I trust you're aware that France-san is waiting to meet you both at Birmingham International.**_

_** Yeah. I think he just wants to creep out Iggy or something.**_

_** Is that why you chose to travel with England-san?**_

Damn, Japan's good at this. America bites his lip, his face going a little hot. He texts back, _**I'm just keeping him company so the old guy doesn't go senile or something. **_Sure. It's not like America took it upon himself to protect Iggy from France because he's the hero. Nope. Absolutely not.

_**Well, I know you're probably very bored without any new video games to play, so I decided to come to Birmingham too.**_

_** Awesome! :D**_

_** Also, England-san will probably be a lot safer from whatever France-san is planning if there are more of us there.**_

America feels relieved at the thought of England being safer, even if he will never let England know that he gives a damn. 'Great!' America says joyfully under his breath. 'There will be four of us!'

'And me,' Canada says in a ghostly whisper.

America squeaks in fear, gazing wildly around the carriage. 'Wh-who's there?'

'What are you blubbering about now?' England demands, reappearing at the end of the carriage with a bottle of bear in his right hand.

'The ghost is back!'

'Sure. Whatever you say, America.' The smaller nation slides past America to get back to his seat. America can see that a quarter of the bottle's contents is already missing. And he suspects that this probably isn't even the first bottle.

America chuckles. 'Dude, I know you don't want to see France, but there's no need to get wasted!'

'Shut the bloody hell up,' England growls, still not feeling particularly happy.

'You know that Japan is gonna be there too, right?'

'Bloody booze doesn't even work…' England mutters pessimistically. '… Wait, what?'

'France never mentioned that Japan is in Birmingham too?'

England stares at the other blonde for a second before cussing. 'That stupid wino! I'm going to bloody kill him!'

'Aren't you relieved?'

'Of course I'm relieved! I'll have someone relatively normal to talk to!'

'… Thanks a lot, man,' America says with a pout, actually feeling a little hurt.

England either doesn't hear him or simply doesn't bother to acknowledge America's words. He takes another huge gulp of beer, gazing, bored, out of the window. As far as he's concerned, although Japan will be there, he's still going to have to deal with that wretched Frog-Face.

'Still time to jump, tuck and roll,' he murmurs to himself, forgetting that he's not alone.

'What?' America asks, looking very surprised.

'Nothing,' England replies. 'Just Plan B.'

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, England is forced to go with Plan A, which means that when the intercom comes on, stating that they'll be reaching Birmingham International in five minutes, America has to pin England down to stop him from racing over to the doors so he can jump out.<p>

'Come on, dude, calm down!'

'I wasn't going to- _hic- _bloody jump, I was- _hic-_ going to find somewhere to- _hic-_ hide! I don't want to leave this- _hic-_ sodding train!'

'Come on, we're in public. France isn't gonna try anything.'

'_Hic- _like that's ever- _hic- _bloody stopped him- _hic- _before.'

Across the carriage, the family are watching them in confusion as he bigger man holds the smaller one in place by wrapping his arms around him.

'Mummy,' the little girl says, tugging on her mother's cardigan sleeve. 'Do those two men love each other?'

America and England freeze, both their faces flushing pure red (to be fair, England's face was already red). They remain locked in that position until the train pulls to a stop and the doors open.

'Um… we should hurry,' England mutters awkwardly, struggling out of America's grip so he can check his watch. 'We need to catch the other train.'

'Uh… yeah,' America laughs nervously.

The two quickly get up and grab their luggage. England is ready to give America a hand with his three suitcases when the bigger nation lifts them all up with ease, clearly displaying his inhuman strength.

'People are- _hic- _going to think you're very strange.'

America winks. 'I'm the hero and people should know that!'

The two quickly jump off the train and onto the platform, followed by a certain, unnoticed Canadian nation and his bear cub.

* * *

><p>'We're going to be-<em> hic-<em> bloody late!'

'Dude, it's fine. You should probably get a coffee.'

'I'm not drinking that vile stuff! Besides, we don't have the time!'

America shifts his bags so that he's just got a free hand to grab England's arm. He pulls the other country towards the station café. 'We'll be fine. You need to sober up.'

'I'm- _hic- _bloody fine!' England protests, stumbling over his own two feet as America drags him out of the way of the people rushing past. 'The sodding- _hic- _train is going to leave without us!' He trips and crashes into America, both nations slamming into the wall nearest to them.

Rolling his eyes as England starts swearing at the wall, America leaves the suitcases with him and rushes over to the counter in the café and pays for two coffees, one for himself and one for England. He them approaches England and pulls him to his feet, dragging him to the platform they're supposed to be on.

'Bloody wall…' England rants.

'Stop running into walls, okay? I know that it would be really cool if we did get to Platform 9 ¾-'

'That's in King's- _hic- _bloody Cross. We're not even in London- _hic-_ yet.'

America giggles as England's hiccups continue. It really is quite funny watching the smaller nation trying to get his words out.

A few seconds later, the train pulls to a stop in front of them. The two shuffle through the doors to their compartment and England practically collapses on the closest available seat, face down on the fabric of the chair.

'Iggy,' America chuckles. 'C'mon, you need to drink this.' He holds out one of the coffee cups.

'Is it tea?' mumbles England's voice from the fabric of the seat.

'Uh… no,' America admits.

'Then, no. I'm not drinking it.'

'Well, 'ow very unsightly,' comes a mockingly disdainful voice from the carriage doors. France is stepping onto the train, followed by Japan. France's eyes are fixed on England's sprawled-out figure, his mouth curled up at the sides in a smile. 'So much for a gentleman, Angleterre. Very undignified… Then again, this angle is strangely arousing-' He is cut off by America coughing loudly.

'Are you alright, England-san?' Japan asks kindly.

'Is it- _hic- _me, or did the damn frog just hop onto the train?' England asks, directing his question at America.

'Yep,' America answers with a grin. 'He's completely wasted,' he adds to France and Japan.

'I am bloody well- _hic- _NOT,' England says loudly. France laughs.

'Perhaps you should have some rest,' Japan suggests sympathetically, helping England up into a sitting position. The Brit ends up resting his head on the table in front of him, still not looking up at the others. 'Some peace and quiet would be ideal, but we happen to be in the same carriage as America-san, so I'm afraid that's out of the question…'

'Dude!' America cries indignantly. Japan shoots him an apologetic smile.

'Ah!' France exclaims, now looking past the others at something else in the carriage. 'Bonjour, Canada! I almost didn't see you there!'

England's head shoots up from the table and America chokes on his coffee.

'I suppose you came with Amérique on the plane, non? Were you on the train with 'im and Angleterre?'

'Yes,' Canada says quietly, his eyes open wide in total amazement. 'I was here the whole time-'

'Canada, bro! Long-time no see!' America says cheerfully, finally remembering who the doppelgänger of himself is.

'Um, actually I've been travelling with you for a whi-'

'Ah, yes. _Hic- _good to see you, um… Ca… _hic…_ Cana…'

'Canada.'

'Exactly. _Hic-_ good to see you!'

Canada opens his mouth to cheerfully reply but already the attention is on somebody else.

'Iggy, just drink the coffee. It won't kill you.'

'_Hic- _I'm not drinking that awful- _hic- _stuff. I'm completely- _hic-_ capable of remaining in the- _hic-_ right frame of mind.'

'I believe 'e was never in the right frame of mind to begin with,' France jokes.

'Do you want some water?' Japan asks England. 'We've got to get those hiccups under control.'

'Won't he need a surprise or something?' America suggests.

France clicks his fingers. 'Precisely.'

'What are you gonna-'

France grabs the front of England's shirt and pulls his face towards his own, ready to give England nightmares for at least six months.

'That's not really much of a surprise,' Japan points out as England starts screaming every swear word he can think of and America tries pulling France off the smaller nation. 'It's actually very predictable, coming from you, France-san…'

'Maybe I could weigh in here,' Canada murmurs, watching his brother's face carefully. America's actions are clearly very protective and his irritation at France is obvious on his face. But once again, Canada goes unheard.

'You sick, perverted- _hic- _arsehole!'

'Come on, dude. Leave Iggy alone.'

'Come now, Amérique, Angleterre. I was only trying to 'elp.'

'You can- _hic- _help by leaving me alone, wanker!'

'England-san, although you may find it hard to believe, America-san is right,' Japan says. 'Drinking the coffee is probably a good idea right now.'

Mumbling darkly, England reaches out to take the coffee from America. 'I'm going to bloody kill you…'

'Whatever you say. Drink.'

England takes a tentative sip and promptly chokes. 'It's- _hic- _vile!'

'It's great,' America argues.

'I'm going to be sick.'

'It's not that bad, Iggy. Quit over-reacting-'

'No, I mean I really am going to be sick.'

America's eyes widen. He quickly pulls England out the seat and helps him onto his feet.

'The toilets are that way,' Japan says quickly, pointing at the other end of the carriage. France roars with laughter as England pelts down the carriage towards the door with America following hesitantly behind.

* * *

><p>'I am never… going to bloody… drink again…'<p>

'You say that now, dude,' America says with a small laugh, watching as England emerges from his cubicle, pale-faced and looking completely exhausted.

'Mint…' England mutters.

'Hmm? Can you see that imaginary bunny friend of yours?'

'He's… bloody… real… and no, that's not… what I meant… I need a mint to take away… the aftertaste…'

America snickers. 'You brought this on yourself.'

England presses his back against the wall he's next to and slides down so that he's crouching at the bottom. 'Alone. That's all I wanted to be today. No… bloody… stress. Just nice… and peaceful. Nothing to… sodding… worry about.'

America keeps on smiling like nothing's wrong, but he feels a little upset inside. 'Come on, Iggy. They'll think you'll have really jumped off the train if you stay away any longer.'

'Why does… that sound like such a tempting… idea?'

America steps over to the smaller nation and bends down. 'Sheesh, I'm really good at pissing you off, huh?'

England notices how America is avoiding eye contact and his teeth are gritted, almost as if he's fearing the answer. The older nation then decides to be nice for a change.

'France is worse. Honestly, none of this would have had to happen if France were not accompanying us on this journey. I would still be sober for a start.'

America grins. 'But I annoy you too, right?'

There is now a mischievous glint in England's emerald eyes. 'Yes, but we can sort that out. Be prepared from this moment to call it _'The Philosopher's Stone'_ and I'll consider forgiving you for being an irritating wanker.' The insult has no bite and is only meant to tease.

America giggles, reaching into his right jacket pocket to pull out some spearmint chewing gum for England. 'Sorry, dude. It will always be 'The Sorcerer's Stone' to my people.'

England cusses and takes the gum, quickly shoving one into his mouth. 'Fine, but they're 'mobile phones', not 'cell phones'.'

''Cell' is quicker to say. Can't change that.'

'Alright, but driving on the right side of the road is stu-'

'Dude, loads of countries have their cars on the right side! The British are the weirdoes-'

'Shut up, git! There are plenty of countries that drive on the left, too! And don't forget that we British are the ones who gave the world _Sherlock Holmes_-'

'Okay, fair point, but-'

'And _Doctor Who_-'

'Yeah, and we're seriously grateful, but-'

'AND _HARRY_ BLOODY _POTTER_!'

There's a ringing silence as those words sink in.

'Yeah, and thank you so much for _One Direction_,' America says sarcastically, making it perfectly clear that he doesn't like the band.

'And did I ever congratulate your country for introducing the rest of the world to _Twilight_?' England spits out the last word.

America opens his mouth, ready to continue arguing, but that last point of England's is good.

England's mouth curls into a smile. 'I win.'

America laughs infuriatingly. 'Like the hero's gonna lose!'

'You just did.'

'Nuh-uh. I call it a draw.' _And you didn't deny that I'm the hero._

'To hell with what you call it.' England's emerald eyes are shining triumphantly. For the first time on this stressful journey, he feels victorious. He climbs to his feet, ready to argue more if he has to. However, a new wave of nausea hits him violently and he falls back down again, wrapping his arms around his stomach. 'Bloody hell…'

'Need help, Iggy?' America asks casually, supressing a huge smirk.

'No,' England snaps, leaning his head back against the wall, facing the ceiling. He closes his eyes and begins to breathe deeply out of his mouth, the little colour that was beginning to return to his cheeks having been erased again. 'Call me that again and I'll…'

'Aww, I'm sorry, Iggy.'

One of England's emerald eyes opens and glares at America. 'When I get better, I'm going to throw you off this train. Literally.'

America chuckles. 'Nah, you're smaller than me. Not gonna happen.'

'Well, maybe if you didn't eat so many sodding burgers-'

'Dude, I'm _not_ fat!'

'Besides, I'll probably jump off after I pushed you. I'm not spending another minute on this train with that damn Frog-Face. I'd be doing you a favour.'

America rises to his feet and holds out a hand for England to take. 'If France tries anything then I'll push _him_ off the train, okay?'

England blinks, his large eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. '… Why?'

'I'm the hero! Duh!'

England hesitates, then takes America's hand. A small flash reflects in their eyes for a second, but when the two look towards the door (where they're assuming the light came from), no one is there.

'Did something just… flash…?' America begins.

'It must have just been our imagination,' England murmurs, knowing full well that it can hardly have been imagined by _both_ of them.

As America pulls him up, England's stomach starts fluttering again and he internally puts it down to the alcohol's affect on his body, though he's beginning to realise that the nausea isn't the cause of it. He stumbles a little, light-headed, but America steadies him. Another flash causes them to freeze.

'Okay, that seriously did just happen, right?' America says slowly. England nods hesitantly, recognising the flash as one that would appear if... someone was taking a photo...

America grips England a little harder. 'Dude... I think it's the g-g-ghost...'

England sighs. 'You're absolutely right, America. Your imaginary ghost boarded this train with us because it wants to be our personal poltergeist.'

America stares down at him with wide blue eyes. 'You c-can't insult it! It'll g-g-get you!'

'It doesn't exist, git,' England replies, looking back defiantly.

'Actually, I do exist,' whispers a voice.

America shrieks and clings onto England even tighter. The older nation jumps violently from the shock of hearing the voice, caught completely off guard. There's another flash and the two nations both catch sight of a camera before whoever is holding it races off, making no noise at all.

* * *

><p>'Guys!' America yells, looking completely alarmed as he pulls England along, back into their carriage. 'There's a ghost taking pictures of us!'<p>

'Pardon?' France says, looking up at the other two blondes.

'A ghost,' America confirms, breathing heavily. 'It was on the other train with us and then it followed us onto this one. And now it's got a camera!' he adds dramatically.

'The camera part is true,' England explains calmly, shaking America's hand off his arm.

'So... someone is taking pictures of you,' Japan muses. 'I wonder what you must have been doing in order for the culprit to want to take pictures of you...'

'Wh-what?' England splutters, going bright red at the thought of what Japan may be implying.

'Ohonhonhonhonhon~,' France begins to laugh.

'Well, Iggy came out of the cubicle but then had trouble standing on his feet so, being the hero, I helped him up,' America says, completely oblivious to Japan's implications.

'America. Shut. Up,' England commands through gritted teeth, detesting the sparkle of amusement in France's blue eyes.

America turns to him with an innocent look on his face. 'I'm just telling 'em what happened. So anyway, Iggy took my hand and I- _Urph! _Dude, what the hell?'

England has just elbowed his former colony very hard in the stomach. 'Seriously, shut the bloody hell up,' he hisses.

'Wha-? Why?' Then America gasps. 'Is it the ghost? Has it found us again?'

'No!' England says crossly, biting his lip as America grabs his shoulders and hides behind him, quaking in fear.

'America-san, I'm sure there's nothing to be concerned about,' Japan tries.

Just then, there is another flash.

'It's h-h-here!' America wails, clinging onto England like there's no tomorrow. France can barely contain his laughter anymore.

'America, you sodding git! Get the bloody hell off me!'

'No, by all means, remain in that position,' France sniggers.

* * *

><p>By sheer exhaustion, England finally finds himself falling asleep once more. There's only roughly an hour left of the journey before the countries on the train will find themselves in London Victoria station, and at 'bloody rush hour' as England puts it before he dozes off again.<p>

His head begins to nod forwards slightly, his eyelids drooping before his emerald eyes close completely. He almost falls forwards onto the table, stopped by America and Japan just in time.

'Did England-san get any sleep on the way here?' Japan asks quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping Brit.

'Uh, yeah... but I may have woken him up,' America replies sheepishly.

'You shouldn't 'ave done that, Amérique,' France says mischievously. ''E's more vulnerable in 'is sleep~-'

'Dude, you seriously need to cut that out,' America says, trying to sound serious despite how humourous he finds this. 'Iggy would kill you if he wasn't asleep.'

England's head slides towards America before finally resting on the bigger nation's shoulder. America blushes, chuckling slightly, and shifts a little bit to make it more comfortable for England. He goes even more red at the look on France's face.

'Ohonhonhonhon~...'

'Sh-shut up! I'm the hero, so I gotta let him use me as a pillow, okay?!'

Yet again, a flash can be seen in the carriage.

'Sheesh! Every time me and Iggy touch, the ghost takes a photo,' America exclaims.

''Ave you been touching a lot then? Because it sounds as if a lot of photos 'ave been taken,' France giggles.

Finally, America registers what France is implying. No wonder Iggy was so embarrassed earlier.

'Dude! That's- that's not- we haven't-'

'It's alright, America-san,' Japan says gently. 'We're all friends here.'

_Are we? Iggy wouldn't be caught dead saying that about France, _America thinks weakly. 'N-no, that's not what's been happening! I w-w-was just helping Iggy up when he was feeling ill and... nothing happened, I swear!'

England mumbles something sleepily that sounds suspiciously like 'Flying Mint Bunny' and snuggles up to America.

The young country's face is burning. Is everything supposed to be this hot? Once again, the flashing on the mystery camera starts again. England's eyelids snap open and he blinks confusedly for a few seconds before noticing that he is in close proximity to America.

'What the- Why am I-?'

'The ghost ships us, Iggy,' America says hoarsely, looking anywhere but those questioning emerald eyes.

'Sorry?'

'The ghost. It's taking pictures of us because it ships us. You and me.'

'You and _I_,' England corrects him, not understanding the term 'ships'.

France snorts with laughter. He tries to cover it at first with his hand but gives up after a few seconds when he catches the embarrassed blush on America's face and the dawning realisation on England's.

'B-bloody shut up...' England moans, feeling completely humiliated (and why in God's name is his face so hot?!).

_'We will shortly be arriving in London Victoria...'_

'That's o-our st-stop, right?' America squeaks.

'Hai,' Japan confirms. 'I wonder if Hungary-san has arrived in London yet...'

_Why does he want to see Hungary? _England thinks sharply. _What would they possibly discuss?_

_ ... Oh._

Yaoi. Of course.

'C-c'mon, Iggy,' America says with an attempt at his usual laugh, though it sounds stuttery and nervous. 'We sh-should g-g-get going...'

'R-right...'

'Try to keep your 'ands off each other for more than five minutes, oui?' France says with a wink as they step off the train and onto the platform.

'Kill me now,' England whispers to America as the two walk away from France and Japan, his face still bright red from embarrassment.

'No way, dude! I need someone to kill _me_! Who'll be able to do that if you're dead?' America protests.

'Just keep walking,' England instructs, trying to maintain his dignity. 'Don't look back at them.'

But England is still giddy from his ordeal with the beer bottles. He stumbles once more and America instinctively reaches out to catch him.

'Idiot! Don't give give the photographer more material!'

'Or 'thanks', as people used to say,' America says, grinning awkwardly. 'Fine, dude. I'll just let you fall next time.'

'That's not what I meant, and there won't be a next time! Let go- you're still holding onto me, git!'

'Oh, right, sorry. Damn, I hope they didn't see that-'

_Flash._

'... Well, that's my pride down the drain,' England says, still clutching onto America's arm, his face looking totally hopeless.

'I think it went when you were using me as a pillow.'

'I was not! ... And even if I was, were there... um... any pictures taken of that?'

'Yep,' America confirms.

'I'm in hell,' England decides. 'We _did _jump off the train, we died, and now we're in hell.'

America thinks about it for a second before he takes England's hand in his own (not giving a damn about what anyone else thinks). 'Maybe,' he agrees slowly. 'But if that's true then... despite the fact that there will be a _lot_ of ghosts here and they'll definitely be evil-' (he looks around, pretending to look nervous)- '... I guess hell's not so bad after all, right?'

England gives him a small but genuine smile, letting America keep hold of his hand. 'I suppose you're right,' he replies, his green eyes shining.

* * *

><p>'They're 'olding 'ands now,' France observes as he watches the two other blondes, further down the platform. 'Canada-'<p>

'I'm on it,' Canada's soft voice answers. He lifts up the camera Japan lent him when they all boarded the same train and takes another photo, overjoyed at the look of contentedness on his brother's face.

'L'amour is in the air, oui?' France chuckles. 'Good thing we asked you to take the pictures, Canada. They'll never suspect a thing.'

'That's because they hardly ever notice me,' Canada says, not bitter at all. On the contrary, he's starting to see it as a major advantage.

'Hungary-san will be most pleased with these,' Japan says approvingly, taking the camera from Canada with a grateful smile. 'I'll show her the pictures as soon as I can.'

'But alas, no kissing,' France sighs, though the other two can tell that he is highly amused.

'Small steps,' Japan says. 'They're only just acknowledging their feelings. Give them time.'

'And we'll be ready with the camera,' France says slyly.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the story! Please leave a review on your way out, and HAPPY NEW YEAR! XD<strong>


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